


I'll Be There

by Rose_SK



Series: Wit and Haven's Eskel Whump Dump [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Curses, Eskel Whump (The Witcher), Feral Behavior, Feral Eskel, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Psychotropic Drugs, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 05:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26819983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_SK/pseuds/Rose_SK
Summary: Geralt knew something was wrong when Eskel did not show up in Ard Carraigh. Eskel was never late. On the rare occasions that Eskel was held up somewhere, he would send a note to let Geralt know he would be late. After spending all morning asking around in various inns and smaller taverns, nobody had seen another witcher or received a note addressed to Geralt. Eskel was not here, and he had not given any indication of his whereabouts, so Geralt had every right to be worried.Right?OR Eskel is in trouble and Geralt saves the day.
Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Series: Wit and Haven's Eskel Whump Dump [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2108274
Comments: 4
Kudos: 69





	I'll Be There

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the whumptober challenge prompt 4: Running out of time (caged/buried alive/collapsed building). I took some liberties with that prompt, woops.

Geralt knew something was wrong when Eskel did not show up in Ard Carraigh. Eskel was never late. Since he was a young boy training to become a witcher, the thought of arriving late to training or to any other class made Eskel fret. Every winter, he was the first to arrive at the keep, the last one to leave. On the rare occasions that Eskel was held up somewhere, he would send a note to let Geralt know he would be late. After spending all morning asking around in various inns and smaller taverns, nobody had seen another witcher or received a note addressed to Geralt. Eskel was not here, and he had not given any indication of his whereabouts, so Geralt had every right to be worried.

Right?

There had to be a reasonable explanation, Geralt tried to reason with himself. After all, there was a war going on. Some letters might be intercepted and read, which would only convince Eskel _not_ to write to Geralt. Eskel was nothing if overbearingly careful, overthinking and questioning every decision three times over before settling on a course of action. He had not always been like that, Geralt remembered. Some of their best pranks as young boys had been the result of decisions that had not been taught through properly. Eskel never used to worry about the consequences of his actions until Deirdre. Since Deirdre, many things had changed. Geralt willed those thoughts away, instead focusing on steadying his racing heart by slipping into a meditative state. Eskel would know where to find him. It would not be much longer before the witcher showed up and pulled Geralt into a firm embrace holding the promise of _more_ once the two were somewhere more private. Geralt could not wait to feel Eskel’s strong, steadying arms around him.

Three days passed, and still no sign of Eskel. Geralt was beginning to worry. Well, worry _even more_. He desperately wanted to track Eskel down, but where to start? Last he had heard from him was months back when Geralt himself had been visiting Dandelion in Oxenfurt for a couple of days to recover from a wound. A letter from Eskel had been waiting for him there, because Dandelion was always a safe bet, and at that point Eskel had somehow managed to end up in _Toussaint_ of all places. He could be anywhere. Geralt had no idea which direction Eskel may have taken after that. It was anyone’s guess. It was on the fourth day that Geralt decided that he could not fight his anxiety any longer. He was beginning to worry that Eskel got hurt on the way, or worse… no, Geralt refused to think of that possibility. It was early in the morning that Geralt went to check on Roach in the stables, gently coaxing her away from the comfortable bed of hay and the tasty oats despite her many complaints.

“I’m sorry, Roach, but we need to find Eskel. Something’s wrong, I can feel it. I promise if you do this for me I’ll feed you sugar cubes every day for the entire winter.”

Roach’s ears perked at the mention of sugar, which had Geralt chuckling softly. The mare mouthed at his pockets, clearly expecting advanced payment for her trouble, but all Geralt could offer her was an apple that had seen better days. Roach accepted the offer reluctantly, but otherwise let Geralt lead her out of the stables to be tacked up. Ard Carraigh was still fast asleep when Geralt made his way out of the city, but he had barely travelled several leagues into the nearby forest that a loud thundering noise echoed in the forest around him, spooking Roach in the process who reared and let out a string of terrified whinnies. Geralt used Axii to calm her down when he noticed the portal before his eyes. To his surprise, it was Yennefer who stepped out of it.

“Geralt, there you are!”

“Yen?” Geralt frowned when he noticed the concerned frown on the sorceress’ face. His heart dropped as a thought formed in his mind. Could this have something to do with Eskel? Surely Yen would not concern herself with another witcher’s whereabouts unless he was important to her in some way. Eskel and Yen… were not exactly enemies, but they were not best friends either. In fact, Yen once admitted to Geralt that she _liked_ Eskel and appreciated his company. Eskel, on the other hand, kept Yennefer at a distance despite his polite tone and generally diplomatic handling of the sorceress.

Geralt swallowed thickly. He was probably reading too much into this.

“I thought I might find you in Ard Carraigh, but when I arrived the innkeeper told me he saw you leave early this morning. I have important news. It’s about Eskel.”

 _Fuck_. Geralt felt himself blanch at Yen’s words, fighting hard against the panic threatening to consume him. He should not have left it so long. He should have gone after Eskel the minute Geralt realised his lover was not in Ard Carraigh like planned. Yen could tell that Geralt was spiralling and in a rare affectionate gesture, she closed the distance between them and squeezed Geralt’s hand in hers.

“Geralt, breathe. I know where he is! We need to be quick, though.”

“He’s alive?” Geralt asked weakly, and the only thing that stopped his hands from shaking was Yen’s hold on them. The witcher focused on the feel of her velvet gloves against his skin, the soft texture a nice distraction from the spiralling thoughts in his head. Yen nodded, squeezing tighter when Geralt tried to move away from her.

“Geralt, listen! He’s alive, but he’s… trapped. Remember Istredd? He was to Ban Ard a week ago by one of his old instructors. He was to help the mages with an experiment. When Istredd arrived, he noticed a witcher in dimeritium shackles tied to a table. He recognised the wolf medallion and instantly came to see me. From his description it sounds like the mages caught Eskel.”

Geralt tried to wrap his head around Yen’s story, his frown deepening as she explained the situation to him. What would the mages of Ban Ard want with Eskel? Geralt’s brain kept going back to the words ‘experiment’ and ‘shackles’, his stomach twisting involuntarily at the thought of Eskel tied up, defenceless, vulnerable against those assholes keeping him prisoner.

“It’s no secret that Eskel’s magical aura is strong. You know that his magic is probably the most powerful among witchers.”

“That doesn’t give them the right to experiment on him,” Geralt gritted through clenched teeth, his panic quickly making way for anger. No, rage. Blind rage. Yen levelled him with a look, that look that said _think with your head, Geralt, now is not the time_. Geralt tried, and failed, to keep his composure. “Take me to Ban Ard.”

“We can’t just go charging in there, the mages guard the academy well. There are magical barriers, guards, trained mages ready to kill intruders. Geralt, you have no chance of surviving this on your own, much less without a plan. Let me take you to Istredd!”

“Then what?” Geralt snapped, his patience thinning. Eskel was running out of time. The gods only knew what those mages were doing to him while Geralt wasted time hatching plans with Yen.

“Istredd is your only way in. He wants to _help_ , Geralt. We don’t have much time, and much less options, so are you in or out?”

Geralt ran a hand across his face and sighed heavily, his heart thumping so hard in his chest he worried it might actually burst out of his body. His head was spinning, his hands shaking. Yen was right, his mind convinced him, this was the only way to get to Eskel quickly. Geralt could always improvise once he was inside the mage’s keep but before he could do that, he needed a guide. Istredd.

“Fine. Take me to him.”

_____

“Your friend, Eskel, the mages are keeping him in a cell in the dungeons at the minute,” Istredd explained patiently, not fazed by Geralt’s murderous glare on him, “they made him wear dimeritium shackles, so he can’t use his magic. From what I’ve seen, they’ve tranquilized him with some potion, I could not tell you which one. All I know is that they gave your friend a dose strong enough to put a griffin to sleep.”

“How do we get in?” Geralt snarled, “get to the point, Istredd. Time is of the essence.”

“I understand. What you need to realise, witcher, is that this will take some planning. Spare me the temper tantrum and help me hatch a plan. The quicker, the better for your friend. Also,” Istredd raised a calming hand when Geralt went to interrupt him again, “they won’t kill your friend. They need him alive for what they plan to do with him. It’s not a race against time, we need to think this through.”

“Not a race against time, you say?” Geralt’s tone was dangerously calm and composed, so much so that Yen stepped between him and Istredd when the witcher took several steps toward the mage, “so just because they don’t intend to kill him I should just take my sweet time? Tell me, Istredd, it very much sounds like those mages’ experiment will involve something painful. Something painful enough to hurt a witcher. Something that would upset a witcher enough that those mages have to tied him to a table and use dimeritium shackles on him. If these experiments, as you call them, were harmless, they would not have had to use a tranquilizer. But please, do correct me if I’m wrong.”

Istredd swallowed thickly while Yen raised an unimpressed eyebrow at Geralt. The witcher ignored her, eyes still set on Istredd shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

“Geralt, I won’t lie to you. What they want to do will be painful for Eskel, but-“

“But at least, they won’t kill him? Is that what you were going to say? I don’t mean to burst your bubble, mage, but there are things worse than death.”

“Geralt, please.” Yen placed two hands on Geralt’s chest, and the witcher let her push him away from Istredd. Geralt met Yen’s violet eyes, finding comfort in his friend’s gaze and in the sweet smell of her perfume. Lilac and gooseberries. A stark contrast to Eskel’s muskier aroma – leather, sweat and smoke. “This little stand-off is not helping anyone, much less Eskel. We all know that we need to act as quickly as possible, but you need to trust us on this. If not Istredd, then me. Please, Geralt. I want to get Eskel out of there, too.”

Geralt pinched his eyes shut, allowing his mind to drift to simpler times when it was just him and Eskel against the world. One specific memory of the day their friendship had changed into something _more_ stood out in Geralt’s mind, like it so often did when he was in emotional turmoil and needed something to remind him what he was fighting for. What he was fighting towards. _No matter what they do to you I’ll be there when you come outta there, Geralt. I promise_. The night before Geralt’s additional trials, he and Eskel had shared their first kiss. Two young touch-starved witchers taking comfort in each other’s arms. _Promise me you won’t die, Geralt. Please. I can’t do this shit without you, got it?_ Geralt promised to come back to Eskel, and that thought had been the only thing keeping him going during the additional trials he endured.

_I promise, Esk. I’ll always come back for you._

“Fine. What’s the plan?” Geralt finally relented, ignoring the soft look in Yen’s eyes. Gods, he hated when she read his mind.

_________

Eskel woke up with the worst headache of his life. Scratch that. The worst headache of his life _so far_. He tried to remember if he had been drinking the night before – Lambert liked to remind him that Eskel was a lightweight, which was probably true, but he did not have to give his younger brother the satisfaction. Eskel went to rub his forehead soothingly but found he was unable to move. He tried again, harder this time, the action followed by a metallic clang. Strange. Eskel blinked his eyes open, quickly adjusting to the dim light of the room and he instantly frowned when he noticed the restraints around his wrists and ankles. _Shit_.

“Ah, you’re awake,” an unfamiliar voice belonging to a tall, skinny man dressed in a robe tinted a royal blue with silver details embroidered along the hem greeted him. The man looked perhaps fifty, but it was hard to tell in the relatively dark room. Eskel flexed his arms and tugged at the restraints with all his might, but they would not budge. “Ah, don’t bother doing that. You’ll only hurt yourself. My name is Imlarith. I am a mage and instructor at Ban Ard.”

Eskel stilled at the name, his frown only deepening.

“Ban Ard? The mage’s keep?”

“Very good,” Imlarith praised condescendingly, an indulgent smile gracing his lips, “I see you’re not as boorish and uneducated as some of your kind, witcher.”

“What do you want from me?” Eskel asked, more to distract the mage so he could cast a sign to free himself from his restraints. The familiar rush of adrenaline that came with using magic was strangely absent. Eskel’s face fell. “Dimeritium. Very good,” he drawled in the same patronising tone, pulling an amused chuckle from Imlarith.

“A feisty one. I like that. Don’t you worry, my boy. We won’t kill you. We just want to chat.”

“Interesting chat when I’m tied up and defenceless,” Eskel remarked, “this looks more like an interrogation.”

Imlarith made a vague gesture with his hand.

“Call it what you like. I just wish to talk to you for now, and depending on how well you cooperate, I will consider unbinding you. Right now, you’re still a flight risk. Not to mention your powerful magical aura… tell me Eskel, do you truly not remember me?”

Eskel groaned in frustration, tugging at the shackles again as hard as he could while the mage stood and watched with a patient smile, like a father waiting for his son to end his temper tantrum. Eskel tried to focus, to reach deep within himself to find his magic, but the dimeritium prevented him from even doing that. He felt more vulnerable than he had in years.

“Are you quite done now? Ready to listen, my boy?” Eskel merely glared, but Imlarith seemed to interpret his silence as agreement. “Very well then. I’m not surprised you don’t remember me. You were only a young boy when I came to find you at Kaer Morhen, and it’s common knowledge that those mutagens mess with your memory. A damn shame those witchers got to you before the Brotherhood did, my boy. So much potential wasted on petty signs.”

“If they’re so petty, why strip me of my magic?” Eskel challenged, only earning himself a patronising tap on the head.

“Eskel, Eskel… though your signs are only a fraction of what we mages are capable of, _your_ magic is strong and you could use your witcher signs to catch me off guard and make a run for it. We wouldn’t want that, would we?” Bony fingers carded through Eskel’s hair affectionately but the witcher jerked away from the gesture, baring his teeth as he did so.

“Don’t touch me!”

“Very well. I won’t. Where was I? Oh yes. When you were a young boy, myself and other members of the Brotherhood came to Kaer Morhen to trade with the witchers. One of our recruits was hopeless, but evidently there was potential in him _somewhere_ which we knew the witchers would know to exploit. That boy would’ve made a miserable sorcerer, but a very skilled witcher at the very least. In exchange, we wanted to get _you_. Your magical aura was developed even back then, Eskel, even before the mutations. I’m surprised you didn’t know.”

“Is that what you do? Exchange young boys like cattle for slaughter?”

“We usually do, only this one witcher – Vesemir, I believe – simply would not part with you. He gave us a miserable excuse, I might add, about you being his child surprise and you two having a bond. In any case, he refused our offer. We tried to convince you personally, but you simply wouldn’t leave. Do you remember why?”

Eskel did not respond. He vaguely remembered a day when Vesemir, accompanied by two strange men, had told him about a mage academy and told Eskel all about the various duties of sorcerers across the Continent. Eskel also remembered taking one look at Geralt, his only true friend, and deciding that if he was to leave then Geralt would have to come with him. Neither boys left Kaer Morhen that day and the strange men left empty-handed.

“Hmm, yes that boy. Geralt, wasn’t it? Grew up to become Geralt of Rivia, the famed White Wolf, the Butcher of Blaviken…”

“Not much of a conversation if all you do is read my mind,” Eskel spat disdainfully, “if it’s all the same to you I’ll save my breath and let you find the answers to your questions yourself.”

“Oh Eskel, don’t be like that my boy.”

“I’m not your boy!”

“As I was saying,” Imlarith resumed, ignoring his prisoner’s outburst, “or rather as I was trying to say before you so rudely interrupted, we don’t want you dead. Far from it. We want you to work with us. _For_ us. We could teach you a thing or two, explore the unknown areas of your chaos, teach you how to control it. You could be a very powerful sorcerer, indeed. Who knows, we could even try to reverse the mutations. And fix that face…”

“Piss off,” Eskel cursed, a twisted smile tugging at his scarred cheek, “you and I both know the mutations are irreversible. And I’m not interested in your reconstructive surgery, thank you. I’ll keep the scars and my dignity.”

“You have no idea what the mages here are capable of, Eskel. Witchers are a relic of the past. Sorcerers, on the other hand…,” Imlarith carded his fingers through Eskel’s hair again and allowed them to glide along the red ridges marring Eskel’s face. The witcher flinched, still insecure whenever someone paid too close attention to his scars. Someone other than Geralt, that was.

“Like I said. Piss. Off.”

“Very well, have it your way boy. Since you won’t cooperate, we shall convince you some other way. In a more forceful fashion.”

Eskel’s eyes anxiously followed Imlarith as the mage moved away from the table, his brain racing to find a way out of this mess. His thoughts instantly went to Geralt and how worried he must be. _Please Geralt, for once in your life, stay out of this_. The last thing Eskel needed was for his lover to be trapped in this hellhole and experimented on as well. Imlarith returned to the table several minutes later holding up a syringe menacingly. Eskel eyed it suspiciously.

“This, my boy, is something the mages of Ban Ard have been working on for a while. It’s a potion that has the same effect as your Axii. Only… this potion can also affect witchers. Highly volatile.”

“Sick fuckers,” Eskel fought against his restraints, in vain, “do you know how dangerous this is?”

“Very much so, yes. That is the whole point of it.” Imlarith’s grin sent an ominous shiver coursing through Eskel’s body. “And I also know how dangerous it would be to inject this in your veins right now. But… that’s why you’re here, after all. Your reaction to the potion will help us devise a better formula, a more reliable one which will give us control over whoever has it running through their veins. A revolutionary weapon which people will pay handsomely for. Now stay still, here’s a good pup.”

Eskel roared, redoubling in efforts to pry himself free, trying to move away from the syringe pointed at his neck. If Imlarith managed to inject this in his system there was no telling how much destruction Eskel would cause. Eskel shouted, begged for Imlarith to see reason, but nothing seemed to faze the determined mage until-

“Master Imlarith!”

-someone burst through the doors, panting heavily as they bent over to catch their breaths. The syringe stilled mere inches away from Eskel’s neck as Imlarith paused in his movements to look at their intruder. 

“What is it, Darryl?”

“The keep’s defences were breached. One of our own, it had to be. There’s a witcher heading for this cell as we’re speaking. An inside job.”

Imlarith’s smirk only grew and it made something twist in Eskel’s stomach. _Geralt, you stupid fuck._ The mage laughed humourlessly, almost fanatically, as an idea crossed his mind.

“Wonderful. Let’s see how effective this potion is. You’ll feel a sharp scratch, but it’ll be over soon.”

The syringe pricked his throat as a cold liquid was injected in his aorta and coursed through his entire being with every heartbeat. Then, everything went black.

____

Istredd agreed to teleport him as close to Eskel’s cell as possible, but Geralt would be on his own after that. Breaching the defences of Ban Ard would get the mage into enough trouble already, Geralt was aware of that, and as soon as Eskel was safe the witcher would think of a way to repay the mage for his help. Yen refused to stay behind and had insisted on following Geralt and helping him break Eskel out of Ban Ard. _You’ll need someone to get you out of the keep when you find Eskel. I’ll teleport you to Kaer Morhen when he’s safe._ Geralt knew how stubborn Yen could be and he did not want to waste his energy on arguing with her.

Geralt slashed his way through the anyone who dared come between him and Eskel. He did not stop to take a better look at the faces of those mages he was running his sword through, nor did it matter in that moment. All Geralt could think about was how some asshole was likely torturing his lover in a cell at the end of the long corridor, and that thought was enough to keep Geralt going. Yen knocked some mages out with energy orbs, but Geralt was not worried for her safety. She knew how to defend herself without his help, like she had reminded him many times before over the years. Geralt and Yen reached their destination quickly, leaving behind a trail of unconscious and dead bodies alike. Geralt used Aard to blast the door off its hinges before stepping inside. Inside the room was a tall man vested in blue robes and in the centre of the room-

Eskel.

“Ah, the White Wolf. Came here to fetch your friend?” the mage asked far too calmly considering he was being threatened by an angry witcher who had just made it past a dozen other mages within minutes. “And Yennefer of Vengerberg, how interesting. How is the Lodge treating you, Mistress Yennefer?”

“Save the pleasantries for your diplomatic visits, Imlarith. Let the witcher go and we’ll spare your life.”

“Speak for yourself,” Geralt rumbled low in his chest. He snarled viciously at the smirking mage, his medallion vibrating under his leather armour. “I wouldn’t mind the head of this son of a bitch as a trophy.”

“Geralt!”

“No, no Yennefer, I shall unbind the witcher as you requested,” Imlarith declared, taking both Geralt and Yennefer by surprise. The pair shared a look between themselves, uncertain what to think. Geralt could sense there was a trap there somewhere and Yennefer echoed his sentiment telepathically to him. Geralt’s eyes returned to Imlarith, who was busy taking off the dimeritium shackles restraining Eskel at the ankles and wrists, a secretive smirk plastered on his lips.

“Oh, I forgot to mention. I injected an experimental potion in your precious witcher just before you two so rudely burst through that door. Unfortunately, I don’t know the side effects of it yet. Let’s just say that it will render our dear Eskel here unpredictable for a yet undetermined time frame. I’m sure you can handle yourselves, though. After all, you did just slash your way through here.”

Geralt narrowed his eyes. He could feel the vibrations of his medallion intensifying when the mage Imlarith disappeared through a portal which he conjured with a clicking of his fingers. Neither Geralt nor Yennefer dared to move, not even when Eskel stirred gently on the table. It was the soft moan tumbling past Eskel’s lips that snapped Geralt out of his trance. In an instant, he was next to Eskel and running his fingers through the damp hair reassuringly, like he used to do when they were young scared boys seeking comfort in each other’s bunks.

“Esk? It’s me, Geralt. Thank the gods you’re safe. You have no idea how-“

Suddenly, Geralt felt something hit him in the stomach and send him crashing into the opposite wall. The first thing Geralt felt was a jarring pain in his stomach, then light-headedness as his skull and spine made impact with the solid brick wall he had been propelled into. The next thing the witcher noticed when he opened his eyes was Eskel glaring at him and holding up a hand aimed at Geralt. Eskel’s ring finger and pinkie were bent so that they touched his palm.

 _Aard_ , Geralt’s mind supplied unhelpfully.

“Eskel, what-“

Yennefer was quicker to recover and sent a magical orb hurtling towards Eskel. Geralt scrambled to his feet, but he instantly hissed when he put weight on his left ankle and felt a sharp pain travel all the way up his thigh. Not broken, but definitely twisted badly enough to cause discomfort. Geralt cursed. Meanwhile, Eskel had used Quen to cast a protective shield around himself just in time for Yennefer’s orb to come crashing into it. Geralt noticed with horror that Eskel’s shield barely took any damage from it. Yen’s jaw tightened in determination as she brought both her hands together and created a bigger, probably stronger orb which she released in Eskel’s direction. The witcher remained motionless, letting the second attack hit his shield without so much as flinching. This time, Eskel did not allow Yennefer anytime to recover and aimed a burst of Igni at the sorceress, which she only barely managed to block.

“Yen, get out of here!” Geralt yelled at her, catching Eskel’s attention in the process. Bloodshot eyes stared at him coldly. Eskel’s eyes, usually so warm and bright, were now devoid of any emotion. Geralt did not recognise the feral witcher squaring up to him. This was not Eskel. Geralt shivered at the thought. “Eskel, listen to me! It’s me, Geralt. You know me, we-“

Geralt managed to put up his own shield in extremis before Eskel’s Igni hit him with a force that very nearly sent him hurtling _through_ the wall that time. Geralt managed to keep his shield up for the most part, but deep cracks were already forming. The shield would not resist a second attack of that magnitude. Something twisted in Geralt warned him that Eskel was still holding back, that this was only a warning.

“Eskel, _please_ , snap out of this. This isn’t you!”

More fire. This time, rather than a single burst of flames, it was like a wall of fire was closing in on Geralt. Eskel’s forte were signs, had always been since the start of his training, whereas Geralt was physically faster and stronger. Not by much, though, and his magical abilities were at best subpar compared to Eskel’s. As Geralt stood there desperately trying to keep up his shield while Eskel all but _breathed_ fire in his direction, the White Wolf became painfully aware of his own weaknesses. The dragon of Kaer Morhen the instructors used to fondly refer to Eskel. Geralt now understood why.

“Geralt! Geralt!”

He could barely hear Yennefer cry out for him, but her reaction seemed to distract Eskel long enough for the sorceress to turn the tables and send Eskel flying to the other end of the cell, knocking over furniture and alchemy utensils in his wake. Geralt did not waste time and hobbled to his lover’s side as fast as his twisted ankle and broken ribs allowed, only to trap Eskel there with Yrden. Geralt then fell too his knees and went to straddle Eskel, using his weight to keep him down and his hands to pin Eskel’s wrists over his head.

“Eskel, it’s _me_ , Geralt. Remember me? We trained together at Kaer Morhen when we were boys. When I got there, I was crying and scared because my mother had just abandoned me at Vesemir’s doorstep. He sent me up to one of the rooms and told me I’d be sharing a bunk with you. Remember what you told me that night when I couldn’t sleep for crying? ‘You can sleep in my bed if you want. I won’t tell.’ Remember that?”

Eskel had stopped thrashing quite so violently, but he still snapped at Geralt and groaned in frustration when he found himself restrained for the second time that day. Geralt strengthened his Yrden, but never let go of Eskel’s wrists.

“When we were thirteen you escaped to the tower after a boy called you a son of a whore. I found you in the tower, and I was the only one you would let close. Vesemir left us to it and I hugged you close. You told me that your mum was the sweetest person you had ever met and that it wasn’t her fault your dad raped her and then left her to deal with the consequences. We spent most of the evening in that tower. I felt so much closer to you after that night. I’ll cherish that memory forever.”

Eskel relaxed, but Geralt was still on edge. He wondered if it was a trap to get Geralt to lower his guard so Eskel could pounce on him. Although Geralt took comfort in the fact that the other witcher had stopped snapping at him.

“You nearly died during the trials. Vesemir called for me and I didn’t leave your side until it was over. You held my hand so tightly. I stood by you when you screamed, when you threw up, when you howled in pain. You didn’t let go once, not even when I slept. You whispered my name over and over. C’mon Esk, you can’t have forgotten that.”

Bloodshot amber eyes were set on Geralt, but thankfully Eskel began to relax under him and the snarl that had twisted his lips mere seconds ago completely disappeared. Geralt hoped these were all signs that Eskel was slowly but surely coming back to him. He cupped his feral lover’s face with one hand while still pinning Eskel’s wrists securely with the other. One could never be too careful.

“The night before my second trials, you were so scared Esk. So was I, but I knew you needed me to be strong for once. You were always the strong one, but this one time you broke. I promised you I would always come back for you. I’m here now. Don’t you dare die on me. Come back to me, wiseass. Please, Eskel.”

Eskel’s eyes slowly reverted back to their familiar colour as Geralt spoke. It took another couple of minutes for Eskel to come back to his senses fully and when he did, a shaky breath pushed past his lips almost as if the weight of the destruction he had caused instantly came crashing onto Eskel’s shoulders. Geralt knew his lover would hate himself for months, if not years for what had happened here, no matter how often Geralt reminded him that none of it had been his fault. They would cross that bridge when they got to it. Eskel needed him now, first and foremost.

“G’ralt?”

“It’s me. I’m here, you’re safe. I came for you, just like I promised I always would.” Geralt’s thumb brushed over Eskel’s scarred cheek lovingly in a silent reassurance that he was there and that he was not going anywhere. Eskel briefly looked past Geralt’s shoulder to where Yennefer was standing quietly, his brows creasing with concern.

“Yen’s fine,” Geralt reassured Eskel softly, “not a scratch. Even a frenzied witcher is no match for her.”

“Only because you distracted me,” Eskel lamented, and Geralt mentally kicked himself for his words. Gods, he was so bad at words.

“You snapped out of it. That mage was playing with fire by injecting that potion in you.”

“Where-“

“Disappeared right after I got here,” Geralt supplied quickly, not wanting Eskel to exhaust himself by talking too much, “we’ll deal with him later. First, we need to get you home. To Kaer Morhen. Vesemir will be fretting like a mother hen if we don’t get there soon.”

“I can help with that,” Yen reminded them gently, “I’ll create a portal for you, but you need to leave now. We won’t be alone for much longer and I can sense the mages rebuilding the magical walls again.”

Geralt pursed his lips but one encouraging nod from Eskel was all he needed to get a move on. It was on those rare occasions that Geralt blessed his mutations for allowing his body to heal faster. He would have been useless carrying Eskel on a twisted ankle, but the shooting pain from before was beginning to fade into a numbing throb. Geralt could deal with that, at least for a little while. The witcher met Yen’s violet gaze, a silent signal for her to go ahead. The sorceress acknowledged him with a small nod of the head and soon, a portal to Kaer Morhen manifested before their eyes.

“Thanks, Yen. For everything.”

“Don’t mention it. I know where to find you when it comes to repaying your debt.”

Geralt and Yen shared one last parting look, the witcher even managing a grateful smile, before he stepped into the portal, not once letting go of Eskel. A nauseating second later, Geralt’s knees buckled and sent him tumbling to the ground, the harsh stone ripping his breeches and digging into the soft skin of his knees. Kaer Morhen. The main hall, Geralt realised with relief. The pain in his ankle and ribs flared up when Eskel all but collapsed on top of him, sending Geralt toppling onto his injured side.

“Eskel! Geralt!”

Vesemir. Geralt groaned as he tried to push Eskel off him, but soon two additional pairs of hands were helping him get the exhausted witcher off him. Geralt nearly snarled at Vesemir when the older witcher tried to pull Eskel too far away for Geralt’s comfort, but the reaction died in his throat as the older witcher levelled him with an unimpressed glare.

“Easy, boy! You know I won’t hurt him. Lambert, help Geralt to his feet and carry him upstairs. I’ll take care of Eskel.”

Geralt was too exhausted, both physically and mentally, to resist or challenge Vesemir’s words.

____

Eskel slept for two days straight before he finally began to stir. Geralt, who was curled up against him, instantly jolted at the movement. His eyes blinked away the last remnants of sleep before settling on his lover. When Eskel finally opened his eyes, Geralt let out the breath he had been holding for the past two days. His fingers carded through Eskel’s hair and gently brushed through any tangles Geralt happened upon. Eskel let out a pleased rumble at the tender ministrations, his arms snaking around Geralt’s waist and pressing him closer to the firm body. Eskel’s warm and safe embrace rightened the world on its axis, and for a brief moment, both basked in each other’s presence while pretending that the past two days had been nothing but a very vivid nightmare. Eskel’s nose nuzzled at Geralt’s neck, soft lips pressing kisses to the sensitive area and sending pleasant shivers running down Geralt’s back.

The moment ended too soon when Eskel heaved a trembling sigh.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

Eskel’s fingers traced Geralt’s ribs, feeling, looking for injuries Eskel knew he had inflicted. Geralt hated seeing his lover spiral into a vicious circle of guilt and self-hatred.

“I hurt you.”

“You weren’t yourself, Esk.” Geralt readjusted their position so he could kiss Eskel’s lips. It was a chaste kiss, no heat to it, but that was exactly what Eskel needed right now. Tenderness, a gentle touch, reassurance. The other witcher melted into the kiss briefly and whined when Geralt pulled away. “Eskel, listen to me. I don’t want you to think any of this was your fault.”

“But-“

“Shut up!” Geralt snapped, although there was no venom in his tone, “just let me finish. Imlarith used your strength against you, that doesn’t make you a bad person. He knew just how powerful you are, but he also knew that you were holding back a lot of the time. Don’t argue, we both know you do.”

Eskel’s mouth closed with a click as he once again resigned himself to simply listen to Geralt’s lecture without interruption. His efforts were rewarded with another lingering kiss.

“You hold back because the last thing you want to do is _hurt_ people. That’s not a weakness, that’s a strength. A strength that was exploited by a mage with evil and megalomaniac intentions. It wasn’t you. You came back to me, you _fought_ whatever it was he injected in your system. I can’t imagine how much strength that must have taken.”

Eskel gently brushed his nose against Geralt’s his eyes fluttering shut as a tired sigh pushed past his lips.

“It was hard. You wanna know what brought me back?”

“Having a drop-dead handsome witcher straddle you like a racehorse?” Geralt joked, his words earning him an undignified snort from his lover.

“You wish, dumbass. No, it wasn’t that. I know you were talking to me, but I couldn’t make sense of your words. I was still conscious, still _there_ , but it felt like I had taken the backseat in my own mind. I was not fully in control, but I was aware of exactly what I was doing and what was happening. It’s difficult to explain. I knew I had to snap out of it, but I didn’t know how. I was… well, scared shitless. Scared of hurting you. Of killing you…”

Eskel paused long enough to compose himself, taking strength in Geralt’s presence.

“So, I went to my happy place. The first time I returned to Kaer Morhen after my first year solo on the Path. I remembered getting there, worn, tired, hungry and miserable. All I wanted was drown my sorrows at the bottom of a bottle of Mahakam spirit and sleep all winter, tell the world to fuck off. And then I saw you, training the new recruits in the courtyard. I remember the way you looked at me, the smile on your face, and later, the sex.”

It was Geralt’s turn to snort at his lover’s words.

“Romantic, as always.”

“Shut up, wolf. You know I’m the romantic one out of the both of us!” Eskel argued, his lips seeking Geralt’s for another kiss which was promptly granted. “Before it gets to your head, it wasn’t the thought of your dick that brought me back. It was the feeling of coming back to you that gave me the strength to fight it. The feeling of coming home.”

 _Home_. Geralt smiled at the term. Once again, Eskel had put in simple terms what Geralt had been struggling to express for years. They were each other’s homes, no matter where they were on the Continent, no matter if they slept in a castle or in marshy swamps. Geralt tightened his hold on Eskel, worried his lover might disappear again.

“Sleep, Esk. You need to recover.” Eskel was already snoring by the time Geralt ended his sentence, looking peaceful in the safety of his lover’s arms. Geralt placed a soft kiss into Eskel’s hair. “I’ll be there when you wake up.”

END.


End file.
